


Strange Sort of Comfort

by EdgarAllenPoet



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not explicitly described or anything, Sick Character, Sickfic, Soft Boys, Vomiting, just mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25986460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgarAllenPoet/pseuds/EdgarAllenPoet
Summary: “You make it seem like you’re dying,” he said.Tamaki frowned a bit harder, really amping up the puppy dog eyes.  “I might be,” he whined.  “You don’t know.  You can’t be mean to someone who’s dying, Kyoya.”
Relationships: Ootori Kyouya/Suoh Tamaki
Comments: 4
Kudos: 168





	Strange Sort of Comfort

It was supposed to be an ordinary sleepover. They’d had a lot of them by now. It wasn’t anything new. Perhaps Kyoya should have found it strange that someone he’d only been friends with for a year was so frequently taking up space in his house, but Tamaki made it hard to find anything strange, really. 

It wasn’t strange that Tamaki was at his house nearly every weekend. 

It wasn’t strange he slept in Kyoya’s bed (it was a little strange, actually, but Tamaki insisted that bed sharing was normal in France, and Kyoya found he didn’t exactly mind. He had a big bed. It didn’t make sense to make Tamaki sleep in a guest room).

It was a bit strange that Kyoya was, inexplicably, awake at three in the morning. He’d been asleep a second ago, he was sure of it.

It was also strange that, when he did wake up at three in the morning, the bed was empty. 

Kyoya sat up and looked around. Tamaki had definitely been there when he’d fallen asleep. The pillows were still rumpled up. He touched the mattress, and it was warm. He reached over to the nightstand and patted around until his fingers landed on his glasses, which he unfolded and slipped onto his face. He blinked. Looked around again. There was a faint light coming from the lower section of the room, so curiously, Kyoya got out of bed and crept down the stairs from the loft to the living section of his bedroom. The bathroom door was ajar, and light was spilling out of it. Kyoya decided the mystery was solved and was just about to go back upstairs to bed when a strange noise caught his attention. 

It sounded like coughing. Gagging? 

Kyoya hesitated for a moment, one hand on the railing. 

Perhaps it would be better to leave him alone and give him privacy. Kyoya would want privacy. But Tamaki rarely wanted privacy. What if he needed help? Wasn’t it strange to check up on someone when they were in the bathroom? 

When was anything ever strange for them? 

Kyoya debated silently for another moment. More coughing, gagging. Was he crying? 

“Damn,” Kyoya muttered, and clenched his fists, and crossed the room. 

He knocked gently on the door, and when there wasn’t any answer, he peaked inside. 

Tamaki was kneeling in front of the toilet, forehead resting against the seat and eyes closed. He looked miserable. Kyoya considered backing away and sparing his humiliation, but then Tamaki blinked his eyes open, and Kyoya was trapped.

“Are you okay?”

Tamaki sniffled pitifully, pouted up at him, and shook his head. Then he gagged, jolted back upright, and vomited into the toilet. 

Kyoya suppressed a gag.

“Wait here,” he said, and backed out of the room. He snuck silently through the sleeping Ootori mansion, leaving the lights off and picking his way through the darkness. He returned a short while later with a glass of water and a small kit of medicine, and a bucket. 

Tamaki wasn’t quite where he left him. The toilet had been flushed, and he was propped up against the edge of the bathtub now, head tipped back and eyes unfocused on the ceiling. 

“Any better?” he asked, and Tamaki rolled his head around to look at him. He was still pouting. He was such a child. 

“No.” 

Kyoya sighed and set his things down on the counter. He picked through the small basket for a moment, then unearthed a bottle of pink liquid and handed it down to the other boy. “Drink some of this,” he said, “Do you want any tea?” 

“No thank you,” Tamaki answered, voice tiny and sad. He sniffled again. Kyoya couldn’t imagine ever letting himself look so pitiful. It had been a few years since he’d been properly ill, but he remembered being as young as seven, being sick in the middle of the night, cleaning up after himself, and taking himself back to bed. He certainly hadn’t _cried_ about it. 

Oh well. 

“C’mon, dummy, you’re not sleeping on the bathroom floor,” he said, and offered a hand down. 

“But it’s comfy,” Tamaki argued. He took the hand anyways. Kyoya hauled him to his feet, putting in far more effort than he had the energy for, and when Tamaki stumbled upright he looped the blonde’s arm over his shoulders to help keep him upright. 

“I brought water,” he said, “Can you...?”

“Yeah.” Tamaki reached for the glass, but then he convulsed, and gagged again, and Kyoya hurried to scoop the bucket up off the floor and shove it into his arms. 

“Here, vomit in this,” he said. Tamaki swayed. “You need to lie down.” 

It was a clumsy sort of dance getting them both up the stairs and back to bed. Kyoya ended up leaving the water downstairs and returning to get it after getting Tamaki under the covers. When he returned a moment later, Tamaki was hugging a pillow and pouting again. Kyoya sighed. 

“You make it seem like you’re dying,” he said.

Tamaki frowned a bit harder, really amping up the puppy dog eyes. “I might be,” he whined. “You don’t know. You can’t be mean to someone who’s dying, Kyoya.” 

“Don’t be such a baby,” Kyoya replied, and he crawled back into bed and sat back against the headboard. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do next, whether he was supposed to go back to sleep or stay up and hold some sort of conversation. Tamaki solved that problem for him. 

He wriggled closer in the bed, closing the gap between them, and he dropped his head into Kyoya’s lap, using his pillow as a thigh. 

Kyoya, temporarily, forgot how to breathe. 

“This okay?” Tamaki asked, breath warm through Kyoya’s pajamas.

Kyoya choked. “Yeah,” he managed. “It’s fine.” 

They stayed there, frozen, for a long moment until Kyoya felt like he would keel over from the tension. He broke it by hesitantly reaching down and running his fingers through Tamaki’s hair. 

Tamaki sighed and melted. 

Kyoya pet him for a while, surprised by how soft the other boy’s hair was and how soothing it was to comb through it, like petting a cat. Every so often Tamaki would sigh, or shift a bit closer. Kyoya scratched his nails gently against his scalp, and Tamaki roused enough to sigh and push himself upright, half sitting. 

“Water please,” he said, and Kyoya handed it over. He took it again when Tamaki handed it back, after a few sips. He said, “You should lay down. I don’t wanna keep you awake.” 

“I don’t mind,” Kyoya answered, but he let himself be coaxed down anyways.

It was an entirely new shock to his system when, instead of retreating to his own side of the bed, Tamaki kept his place in Kyoya’s space and curled up close, head on Kyoya’s chest and arm thrown around his middle. 

Kyoya didn’t mean to flinch, but he must have, and Tamaki noticed. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, “I’m probably not contagious. I think it was just something I ate.”

“It’s fine,” Kyoya choked out, and Tamaki hummed. 

“You’re sure?”

“It’s just... I’m not used to... it’s fine.” It was dumb. Kyoya regretted saying anything. Tamaki heard him anyways. He nodded, head still on Kyoya’s chest. Kyoya was half certain he was going to die. 

“Your family doesn’t touch a lot,” he said, “It’s sad.” 

“Not really.” 

“Will you pet me again?”

This boy was going to kill him. Kyoya did what was asked of him, and Tamaki sighed again. Minutes passed, and when Kyoya was nearly certain Tamaki had fallen asleep-- and had begun wondering whether it was politer to extract himself and spare both of their dignity and privacy, or to stay where he was since Tamaki had put him here in the first place-- when Tamaki spoke again. 

“Thanks for taking care of me,” he said, voice soft. “My mom was sick a lot when I was younger. I never really wanted to bother her, so I always took care of myself. It’s nice to have someone else.” 

Kyoya couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that, but it didn’t seem to matter. Tamaki squeezed Kyoya a little bit tighter and nuzzled in a little closer. He murmured a sleepy goodnight. 

Kyoya expected to spend hours winding himself down enough to sleep in such an unusual position, but it was only a matter of moments before he felt his eyes begin to droop and the lull of sleep start to tug him back towards unconsciousness. He supposed that made sense. 

There wasn’t a lot that was strange for them, afterall.


End file.
